Into the Exilic World
by LadyPorpoise
Summary: Erestor was wise and well respected. But Erestor had quite the road to travel when his world was further shattered at the start of the Second Age. With memories of a dead friend to help cope in this strange world of Noldor society, new lasting friendships along the way, perhaps even a fair maiden to bind himself to...his world could be repaired. Erestor/OFC. Clean romance.
1. Saying Goodbye

A/N For those who voted on the poll: I cannot write that Legolas story, as going down the roads to write it may not be the best for my mental state. Lydwina Marie, here ya go. :)

Erestor's history belongs to my sister with adaptations to fit my canon.

Fun note: I tried translating Erestor's name, as it seems there is no clear one. In quenya, it can roughly translate to "Iron Brother". In Sindarin, it can translate to "One brother"...or "One of the dead." O.o Correct me if there is a more accurate translation that I'm unaware of.

* * *

 _"Really, Glorfindel?"_

 _"Yes, I know this is the worst of Noldorin craft you have seen and ever will see, but at least I tried?"_

 _"It looks like you just fried some wool and shaped it into a leaf and called it gold."_

 _Glorfindel frowned at him, "I swear to you it is gold."_

 _He took the gold leaf and examined it, "Your folk may have come on a suicidal ambition, disturbed the peace that was before you ever came here, but you have some good traits. No, I am not complimenting you."_

 _"A token, Erestor." Glorfindel interrupted him, taking away his lead in the conversation, "A token of brotherhood...as you have taught me much: the ways of battle, knowledge of the land and of its people..." He sighed, "You are going to reject this, are you not?"_

 _He set his jaw before he relaxed, his features softening. He folded his hands over the leaf, "It is a small thing, but with much meaning. I will accept it this time."_

 _Glorfindel looked very happy, letting out a happy laugh, "You let yourself have so little...but this means much to me."_

 _He furrowed his brows, "You are leaving?"_

 _"Where I am going, I know not when we will meet again. But if it is centuries from now, my friend, I hope this shall remain with you as a reminder of our friendship: the only Noldo you allowed into your company gladly."_

* * *

Erestor looked at the gold leaf in his palm. He exhaled out his nose and stuck the leaf in his hair before looking to the distant sea from his perch.

All of that land...gone. Beleriand, his home, was gone. That had been three decades ago, so Erestor regarded it with a numb feeling. But the fact that Beleriand had fallen beneath the waves was the least of his problems at this moment in time.

Everyone he knew were to depart from Lindon soon.

For these past decades he and his group had continued their wanderings throughout the remains of Ossiriand. Slowly though, that began to lessen. More of his folk remained in one place or merged into the established realm of Lindon. He had been rebellious, not seeing why they needed to change when their former way of life sustained them well enough. Erestor was alone often, wandering beneath the shade of the trees like one of the tree shepherds.

Then he was made aware of transpiring events...

Eriel his younger sister and his brother-in-law Oropher, along with their son Thranduil, and many elves were to depart eastward over the mountains. Erestor's father and his group...they were leaving too, to Eru knows where.

But Erestor was forbidden to join either party.

"You have many skills and much wisdom that can help the Exiles and those mingling with them, my son, things that will help them in these coming years."

"If I am so useful, then allow me to aid you or my sister!" Erestor cried, "The Exiles know not how to keep their kingdoms alive!"

"Why then do you think I am telling you to help them, so that they may not make the same errors again?"

"I refuse to." Erestor had felt the bitter tears sting in his eyes: tears of anger and of confusion, "Why do you abandon me, father? Only the All-father knows when we might meet again-if at all!"

"No," the father said in such a gentle way, a sad way, and so bluntly, "You left us first, Erestor, by refusing to accept these forced changes to our lives and to history. This may be your calling, the calling you have been waiting for: what is planned for your life."

"I want a different calling..."

"You can choose: remain alone in Ossiriand, bitter at me, bitter at the Noldor, or at Eru. Or you can learn to forgive and accept your fate, and leave the past behind. We are in a new era, and we all must be willing to face the trials that are to come."

Erestor was left in further rebellion and he fled to his familiar isolation, praying to the Maker for things to change, to choose someone else for the task. There was no sign that it would change.

Erestor accepted this with immense reluctance, knowing that was all he could do, out of respect for his father, but more importantly: to Eru, if this indeed was where he was supposed to go. Holding to one's responsibility and duty, and what was right, can be full of pain and full of grief.

Painful initially, but it would turn out better if one endures to the very end.

Erestor had forgotten that part.

"Erestor?" Called the sweet voice of Eriel.

Erestor closed his eyes and sighed. He dropped down from the tree and landed before his sister. He folded his arms loosely around his torso, some of the bare skin of his arms being tickled by the tightly wound grass and moss tunic he wore.

Eriel was a stark contrast, wearing a long dress of Noldorin fashion. She sighed softly, "Why were you up there?"

"I was recalling...recalling the better times we had." Erestor admitted in a soft whisper.

Eriel looked sad, "You feed the fire of your disdain, brother. You are so bitter: I do not know if I know you anymore!"

"What difference shall it make?" Erestor continued to speak softly yet the bite was still there, "I did not wish to be left alone. I will be forsaken and alone. No one will witness it."

"All save for those above. Ai, Erestor, why do you hold such wrath against the others...against me? And the Exiles...You befriended one, and he was very dear to you. What would he think?"

Erestor grimaced and flinched at each gentle accusation. He shook his head, "Glorfindel is dead." He said flatly but with sadness, "It matters not what he thinks anymore."

Eriel frowned. She turned to leave but was stopped, Erestor had wrapped his arms around her in a fierce and desperate embrace.

"Please, forgive me, sister." Erestor said brokenly, "I do not wish for this to be the last thing you will remember of me. All of this...our world, _my_ world, it is like broken glass. I do not...I know not what to do anymore."

Eriel gently rubbed the distraught's arm, "Know that we suffer too. You are not alone in your grief."

"Alas that it feels that way."

"You are not alone, Erestor...you do not have to be alone."

* * *

The day came when the two parties were to depart. Eriel and Erestor made their peace. Oropher was helpful in providing for Erestor when he was ready to move onward: mentioning where their home was within the city and giving him two sets of clothes.

Thranduil was fond of his uncle, but he had kept his distance when Erestor had such a disturbing change to his demeanor and attitude to everything. They also made their peace.

"Great things are ahead of us: all of us." Thranduil had said, "...It is merely the waiting that makes us waver and doubt."

"Time reveals all things, as the Song plays out." Erestor had answered.

Now, he was kneeling before his father, with a fair amount of onlookers to see the sight.

"Forgive me, lord, for my disrespect to you...and my dishonor to you, as my father." Erestor spoke quietly and meekly, as he had dulled the ill emotions to an empty feeling in his heart.

His sire pulled him to his feet and into an embrace. Erestor let two tears fall on his father's attire, wishing them to stay for all eternity.

"Endure to the end and through all things...Waver not, and stay on your course."

And then they departed: the patriarch, Eriel, Oropher, Thranduil; all of them. Erestor was left with nothing but the gold leaf and handed down property.

Erestor remained in the forest for a few days as he battled with his emotions. Grief, anger, confusion, and loneliness waged war with each other until Erestor was left feeling numb inside, this time it lasted longer, to the point of complete apathy.

Erestor finally brought himself to move onward one day, to fulfill his sire's wishes...whether he liked it or not. He looked to where the elvish city was, and began his journey.


	2. Walls of Stone

_A/N I want to say thank you earthdragon for your review. Seeing it this morning made me go: ...Yeah, I really should continue this. And given how many people followed/favorited at the first chapter, it encourages me to see how this will go. I can't guarantee very regular updates, because dang: I was so excited to do this last year and then the writer's block said **NOPE!** But at least this is something, even if it is kind of choppy in my opinion, being forced to get the words out instead of coming out with ease... But, if you noticed, with earthdragon leaving a comment, that got me off my butt to actually do something with this *wink nudge nudge*. :)_

 _Ellon means male-elf, and Menegroth was an old fortress of stone in Beleriand that Oropher and Thranduil lived in that was led by Thingol._

* * *

Erestor looked at the elven city before him, being within sight of it (by a mile at least). It was unsettling for someone who never has been in one before, at least not frequently.

It did not make him feel any more at ease with this whole affair at all.

Erestor had donned one of the tunics Oropher had gifted him with. He absolutely hated it. It was strange and unnatural, and unbecoming if he was honest with himself. Erestor was sure no one in this higher society would appreciate an elf being clothed with nothing but the things of nature. Still, to show some uniqueness or at least show he was not one of the Noldor, he had neatly woven in vines from the forest into his hair. All in all, he did not look to be a laiqundë, except his green eyes gave it away and the vines.

Erestor wrestled with himself, half wishing he did not have to do this, but the wiser and more respectable part of him tried to beat that away: the conviction driving him. It was the last wish of his sire, and it would do him well to honor that.

Eventually, he steeled himself and started walking, forcing himself to think about other things…just to avoid having to see the settlement get bigger and bigger as he got closer. He had no clue to what he was supposed to do. If he was to succeed in this new task, it would take a long time to earn the trust of the Noldor. Erestor doubted his level of tolerance and patience for these Exiles though…he was unsure he would ever be able to win their favor or be good company.

He and they were very different. Incompatible.

He was of the forest, they of the stone. He was of a simple life, they of grandeur and godly splendor. He of learning from the echoes of the Song…they of learning directly from those who sang that Song.

There were so many differences.

Erestor bit his lip as he beheld the great gates. A few guards were posted on either side, some civilians riding out or some going in. Erestor did not look forward to seeing how crowded it would be. Studying these armored elves intimidated him, being defenseless save for the hidden spearhead he hid in his boot. He had no way to bring any of his preferred weapons, unable to carry them in a seemly manner. Erestor shook his head. He was overthinking…but was he?

Glorfindel would be laughing if he could see his hesitation. Erestor was one who always prided himself in being calm and assured, if at times overbearing, in all situations, and here he was with cold feet and confusion.

Erestor held onto the note that contained the address to the estate. He stared at it, memorizing it and to get his head to stop fretting. He inhaled and put on a calm mask before, as dignified as he could, walked through the gates.

Whitestone was everywhere. The paths, the buildings, the walls…to Erestor, there was not enough green. Not that plant-life was completely absent, there were patches of grass with flowers and the occasional tree surrounded by intricate masonry, and the occasional garden with a running stream. They were beautiful in their simplicity, but it was not enough. Never would be enough.

He felt closed off from his real home.

It was not as crowded as Erestor thought it would be, but when he got to the square where a large fountain was, it was busy. Elves were laughing, selling their wares, a bard or two playing and others danced. Erestor felt the panic become stronger the longer he stood there. Too many people…Not enough space!

The sounds became a blur to his ears as his over-developed survival instincts kicked in, and with as much restraint as he could so he would not be regarded as the odd one, headed to the nearest pathway that seemed empty and vacant. Once away from the crowd and from potential prying eyes he pushed himself into the wall and breathed, trying to ease the tension that made his arms shake. Erestor berated himself and he sighed. There was no reason to fear. And yet…these were people who slaughtered their own over a bunch of worthless trinkets.

'Why do you force me to be among these elves?' Erestor asked his father mentally, knowing he would not get an answer. 'Why do you think putting my life on the line would be best: to change how I have lived my entire life so abruptly?'

Bitterness arose in his heart and it was enough to get him to move away from the wall. He looked around and thanked Eru that his desperate flight had brought him to where he was supposed to go. Erestor slowly walked down the path studying each of the buildings. One that was close to the wall caught his attention and he got closer to it. It had more plant life around it than most of the other places did, and he prayed that this was the right place.

He could hear no one inside, and studying the building more, he grimaced slightly. It was awfully big for one person, but he could manage…perhaps once he figured out how things worked in this society he could sell it for a decent amount of money. There was no way he could afford the estimated upkeep at this moment in time.

Erestor approached the fancy doors and prayed that the key he was given would work. It would be embarrassing to learn this was not the right estate. Luckily it was, and he pushed them open. The hinges echoed in the entry chamber and the elf looked left and right. A stairway stood before him, and great stars the whole place was so awfully pristine it made him uncomfortable. It did not matter that it was beautiful in its own right, it was a chamber of stone to the green-elf.

"What were you when you were here, Oropher?" Erestor muttered as he took slow steps in a random direction. "You were a noble in Menegroth, and thus able to cope with enclosed spaces. But how can you expect me to live up to the same standards?"

"Hello?" called another voice.

Erestor froze in his spot and turned toward the voice. While he showed no outward sign of fear on his face, his heart pounded. Three days of no social contact with another could throw one off, in addition to his numerous years of having mostly isolated himself in his rebellion.

A blonde headed ellon suddenly appeared, appearing surprised. He briefly studied the intruder before he cleared his throat. "You must be master Erestor."

"I am no master over anyone," Erestor answered slowly. "Who are you?"

"I am Castolon, the son of the former steward before he joined with lord Oropher and lady Eriel on their sojourn to the east." The elf bowed effortlessly. "I was told to wait for you and help you if you need it."

Erestor refrained from making a face at the gesture. The elf was obviously young: barely into maturity. And obviously knew a lot more than he did about etiquette and all the other things. The mention of his sister pained his heart. "I was not told there was someone waiting for me…" he said warily.

Castolon was standing upright again. "Lord Oropher said you would need time to get comfortable, so I will not bombard you with details yet." He gestured to the open room. "What do you think so far?"

Erestor looked around and his brows pressed together. "It is big…"

"If you rise in power it will seem less so, as more people would be willing to follow you," Castolon stated happily.

Erestor let expression show on his face, and it was of irritation. "You assume too much," he warned.

Castolon was taken back by the look he was given, and he was left gaping like a fish. It took a long time for him to find his tongue. "Well…may I show you around?" he asked awkwardly.

Erestor nodded and Castolon turned from where he came. Erestor did not give heed to the words or the sights. There was a meeting room, a family sitting area, a kitchen, a library, a study, and a few bedrooms.

When they entered storage, Erestor bothered to inspect the contents as Castolon spoke.

"There is enough food to last for three months," the young steward said.

"What is our financial state?" Erestor asked suddenly.

Castolon blinked and sounded hesitant in his answer. "Lord Oropher has paid two years ahead of time before ownership of the estate becomes a concern."

Erestor let some of his bitterness show again as he thought some more. 'What do they take me for: a miracle worker to produce a large sum of silver in order to maintain upkeep in two years?' But he could not think about it now, and he begrudgingly admitted that Castolon was right. He needed time to get his head together. "I see," he said neutrally. He looked at the elf. "Is there anywhere else I have not seen?"

"The garden," Castolon replied. "You might find that to your liking than anywhere else here."

"Please," Erestor's tone had some amount of desperation to it. He had not even been in the city for a day and he wanted _out_.

Castolon was right again: the garden was more to his liking. A small pond sat in the corner, a boulder, and three willows that formed a canopy made that natural enclosing that Erestor preferred. The smell of the flowers calmed him down and it showed.

It made Castolon feel more at ease around him too. "There is not much else to it, master."

"I rather not be addressed by any title," Erestor stated again. "My name alone suffices."

Castolon blinked and nodded. "If you insist, Erestor." He bowed his head. "I will give you a week to settle before we must go over important matters and to acquaint you with the city."

Erestor nodded absently and Castolon left. The green-elf slowly walked to the boulder before climbing it and sitting down on it. He pulled his legs to his chest and dug into his hair for the gold leaf. Pulling it out, he stared at the mess that Glorfindel tried to create and ran a thumb over it. Melancholy filled his heart and exhaled slowly.

He had not been here for a day and he felt overwhelmed and uncertain.

"I would love it if you were here to help me through this, my friend," he whispered at the trinket. "I do not know what to do."


End file.
